Chapter 13: Peeking Behind the Veil
As the group neared the village gates, the sight of the cheap wooden fences and a lone, bored-looking guard leaning on his spear came into view. The long march, the goblin ambush, the bloodshed—it was finally behind them.
Ethan exhaled, but his mind didn't rest.
'I should get a grasp of what an average human warrior looks like stat-wise,' he mused, glancing at the men walking ahead of him. 'Would be dumb to compare myself to the leader. That guy's clearly more powerful. If he catches me Inspecting him... yeah, no thanks. I'd like to live a long, unbroken life.'
His eyes flicked to the older men in front—both still carrying their worn weapons with the casual confidence of experience, not brute strength.
'Let's start with these two...'
> [Inspect: Doran]
Name: Doran
Age: 56
Race: Human(Unawakened)
Class: Village Defender
Level: 11
Strength: 3.6
Vitality: 3.9
Constitution: 4.1
Agility: 3.2
Stamina: 4.0
Intelligence: 2.8
Mana: 2.5
'Hmm… solid. Balanced. Not flashy, but reliable.'
Ethan shifted his gaze to the other man with a grizzled beard and a permanent scowl etched onto his face.
> [Inspect: Valen]
Name: Valen
Age: 59
Race: Human (Unawakened)
Class: Veteran Watchman
Level: 12
Strength: 3.4
Vitality: 3.8
Constitution: 4.0
Agility: 3.1
Stamina: 3.8
Intelligence: 3.0
Mana: 2.7
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly.
'Not much difference… a few points here and there, probably from years of muscle memory and battle-hardened routines. So this is the average human combatant? Somewhere between 2 and 4, eh?'
He folded the information away like a mental note in a notebook.
'Which means... my stats aren't terrible. But nowhere near impressive either. I'm still in rookie territory.'
The wind carried a faint scent of roasted grain from inside the village walls, making his stomach grumble.
'Let's not get cocky though. A goblin pack was one thing... but humans? Scheming, trained, coordinated? That's a whole different beast.'
Ethan's eyes lingered a bit longer on the stat sheets.
Then it hit him.
> Age: 56
Age: 59
His brows shot up.
'Wait… what? Fifty-six? Fifty-nine?'
He glanced at their backs again—broad shoulders, steady gaits, not a single sign of the frailty that should've come with their age.
'They look like they're in their mid-thirties at most. Is this some kind of joke?'
> [System Query: Explain Age Discrepancy]
A moment later, the familiar cold but clear tone echoed in his mind:
> [System Response Initiated]
The world of Virellia is rich in ambient mana. Unlike the host's previous world, this mana naturally permeates the environment, enhancing the vitality and longevity of all living beings over time.
While not all individuals awaken to manipulate mana directly, prolonged exposure still slows aging, boosts cellular regeneration, and fortifies the body against decay.
As a result, an unawakened human may retain physical prime appearance and functionality well into their 70s.
Note: The impact is greater on awakened individuals or those residing in mana-dense regions.
The explanation thudded into Ethan's brain like a brick.
'So that's why they kept calling me 'kid'…'
He let out a dry chuckle, brushing his hair back. 'In front of these old farts, I really am a kid.'
Then his smile faltered slightly.
'Heh… a 27-year-old kid who used to run a company...'
Silence.
'Wait… that's not even true anymore.'
Ethan was still busy untangling the mental mess of age, mana, and lost identity when the wooden gates creaked open before them.
The wagon creaked to a slow halt. The driver leaned forward, handed over a few copper coins to the guard stationed at the entrance, and gave a casual nod. The guard, a lanky man with sun-leathered skin and a suspicious squint, returned the gesture with a grunt. As the group began moving forward, the guard's eyes briefly flicked to Ethan.
Just a glance. Sharp, measuring.
Ethan met it for a second before the man stepped aside, allowing them through without a word.
Still not used to being stared at like livestock... but whatever. As long as no one pulls a sword on me, I can deal with glances.
As they passed the threshold, Ethan took in the sight of the village—no, it was more than a simple village.
The road beneath the wagon was packed dirt, but well-maintained. Wooden planks bridged softer patches, and the houses were built with solid stone foundations and clay-tiled roofs—nothing luxurious, but certainly sturdy. The scent of drying herbs wafted from open windows. Chickens darted out of the way as carts and villagers moved about with quiet purpose.
Children laughed as they chased each other between buildings, a smith hammered away in a corner forge, and an elderly woman argued animatedly with a vegetable seller at a side stall. Occasional stagglers slouched under shaded porches, nursing tankards or chewing on skewers, but the air wasn't lazy—it was alive.
Ethan's eyes shifted constantly, soaking in the environment. This place isn't just surviving... it's thriving. Structured lanes, regular patrols, established stalls... It's just a step away from being called a town.
The wagon rolled deeper into the heart of the village, and eventually, they turned a corner and entered a broader space—the market square.
Stalls lined the perimeter, offering everything from fresh produce to bundles of leather and glinting weapons. The chatter of hagglers and shopkeepers filled the air like birdsong.
The driver finally pulled the reins and brought the wagon to a full stop near an open section.
He stepped down with a groan, stretched his back, and turned toward the group. Then, with a satisfied huff, he reached into his coat and handed a small pouch of clinking coins to the leader.
"Thanks for the safe trip," he said, giving a brief nod of respect. "Wouldn't have made it past those goblins alone."
Without waiting for a response, the man tucked his scarf up, melted into the crowd, and vanished.
As the dust settled around the market square and the driver vanished into the crowd, Ethan was about to step away when a voice called out from behind him.
"Tag along, kid."
He turned to see the leader of the escort party—his weathered armor now flecked with dried blood and dust—walking toward him with the same composed stride he always carried.
"We're heading to the Adventurers' Guild," the man said. "Need to exchange the mana crystals and submit the goblin ears for the hunt reward. You're part of the group now, so you should come too."
Ethan nodded instinctively, falling into step beside him.
As they wove through the busy street, Ethan figured now was as good a time as any.
"I should probably mention something," he said, keeping his voice light, almost sheepish. "I... lost my identity plaque."
The leader raised an eyebrow but said nothing, prompting Ethan to continue.
"I don't remember much, but... the last thing I recall is being in my study. There was paperwork. Lots of it. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in the middle of nowhere, and everything's gone—my badge, my gear, even my satchel."
He scratched the back of his neck, letting out a soft, awkward chuckle. "Weirdest damn thing."
> [System Whisper – Query: Farthest Kingdom to Current Location]
[Response: Kingdom of Greystar – Located in the far northeast quadrant of the Vererath continent. Distance: Extremely far from current location.]
Ethan added quickly, "From what I've managed to figure out, I'm from Greystar. Far northeast. Doubt you've heard of it."
That earned a slow grunt from the leader, who stroked his stubble in thought.
"Far northeast, huh... You do look and speak a bit refined, for someone who swings like a wild dog," he muttered.
He paused for a few steps, then glanced sideways at Ethan.
"Alright. I'll help you get registered at the Guild. They operate continent-wide, so even if your memory's scrambled or your story's incomplete, your Adventurer ID can work as your new identification. If you survive long enough, who knows—you might reach your kingdom again someday."
Just then, Doran—marching a step behind—grunted with mild curiosity.
"You a noble?"
Ethan blinked, then gave a small, nonchalant shrug.
"Nah. I just worked for one."
That seemed to satisfy them. No more questions followed.
Ethan breathed easier.
Half a truth is still better than a full lie.